


The Case of the Moaning Desk

by Meowbowwow



Series: The Smut Tales Of 221B [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 4am fics written to relieve own sexual frustration, Blowjobs, M/M, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 01:56:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meowbowwow/pseuds/Meowbowwow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So, when he observed that John had a pressure line running somewhere around 3 inches below his shoulders over his thin cotton shirt and was later distracted by the two open buttons at the top and a smiling doctor eyeing him, licking his lips lasciviously, between thorough snogs and getting himself pushed on the couch by his lover, he decided that he would make use of the fact that John sat with a desk that had enough room for a man to sit inside it and “surprise” him. And this is how it began - The Case of the Moaning Desk."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Case of the Moaning Desk

 

John Watson loved surprises and Sherlock Holmes, even with his immensely pedantic nature, failed to understand that ‘surprises’ and ‘shocks’ were two words with completely different connotations. So, when he observed that John had a pressure line running somewhere around 3 inches below his shoulders over his thin cotton shirt and was later distracted by the two open buttons at the top and a smiling doctor eyeing him, licking his lips lasciviously, between thorough snogs and getting himself pushed on the couch by his lover, he decided that he would make use of the fact that John sat with a desk that had enough room for a man to sit inside it and “surprise” him. And this is how it began - The Case of the Moaning Desk.

***

“Wake up, sleepy. I have to go to work,” John tried to extricate himself from the all limbs and a detective who tightened his grip and rubbed his face over his chest like a cat, mumbling something about cyanide.   
“Good morning,” John kissed the scrunched face on the knotted brows and saw that he still had some fifteen minutes to spare a morning shag with the man who was surprisingly adorable when he was just waking up. There was also the fact of a boner singing “IT’S A BEAUTIFUL MORNING!” on top of its lungs but let us not talk about that. And so, he nudged his lover suggestively with it as he feathered kisses on his face and then some open mouthed ones with just a hint of teeth, like he knew Sherlock loved, on his jaw line, travelling down to bite on that glorious neck and then- well, then he was hit on the face with air because the detective withdrew himself and turned around. It was a bit of a shock but John is nothing if not persevere, so he attacked the nape with soft kisses, drawing his arms around Sherlock to pull him closer as he licked his ear and sucked on the side of his neck with small bites and moans.

“Not now, John,” Sherlock mumbled, trying to pull away from him and failing.  
“Hmm, why?” it wasn’t even a question because John continued to kiss his way forward, running his hands down to palm at the semi hard erection and grunting his approval with another bite.  
“Not in the mood. Get up or you’ll be late,” Sherlock tried very hard not to push into the hand that was cupping him through his pyjamas now, he could feel John grinning at him as he gave his balls a squeeze and Sherlock moaned something incoherent.   
“Please, it’s a surprise for you,” he managed, finally giving in and pushing into the hand.

John rested his chin on his shoulder and mumbled, “For me? Okay, we can still give you your morning treat though, can’t we?” saying which he put his hands inside the pyjamas and put it over the silk boxer shorts Sherlock liked to sleep in, to palm at the bulge. Sherlock pushed into it faster and John cupped him again, kissing his shoulder and sucking at the spot he liked best, the soft tissue where his neck met his shoulder as Sherlock came with a moan and went limp in his arms.

“Mhmm, I like you like this,” John kissed him again and got up, heading for the loo.  
“You are not allowed to wank in the shower! Oh, and wear those Red thongs!” Sherlock screamed after him, getting out of bed with the look of someone completely happy with life, well as happy as someone could be with a wet stain around their front.

 

**

 

“WHAT THE HELL!” John screamed as he came back from lunch and sat on his chair, only to find Sherlock crouching under the desk. The detective merely grinned and went on his knees to pull him back down on his chair.

  
“What on earth are you doing in there?” John spluttered at the beaming detective who looked a bit confused at this spluttering. As he tried to make sense of what was going on, he noticed that Sherlock was wearing his brown jumper over his only pair of black denims and still looking a bit sleepy. 

“Why are you wearing my jumper?” John asked as Sherlock made no attempt climb out of the desk. It was good that the desk was hollow and closed from the other side because if someone had walked in at that moment, things would have been a bit awkward.  
“Oh, a disguise of sorts, John. You see, this gives me the look of being unwell and helped me intermingle with the other older patients, so that when no one was looking, I could slip in here and wait for you to finish your lunch.” Sherlock rattled away in his usual fashion, noticing John glaring at him only when he had finished and realising what he had just said about John’s favourite jumper, so he added hurriedly, “I love you?” which earned him a small smile and petting from John (honestly, even John didn’t know why he loved this impossible man!)

“So, what is this?” He ignored the sinking feeling of approaching doom and that little flutter that came with Sherlock kneeling between his legs with a grin like that.  
“It’s a surprise for you, I know that you don’t have a patient for the next thirty minutes and yes, I called Sarah to confirm. No, she didn’t know it was me,” he smirked at John gaped at him because those were the questions he had been thinking about.   
“So, anyways,” Sherlock continued, “I thought we could utilise those thirty minutes doing this-” he unzipped his trousers “and maybe, we could do some other stuff as well, if you’re okay with it.” He grinned again as John looked noticeably flushed at the idea and started tugging at his belt. That is when all hell broke loose and Sarah knocked.

“John, it’s me,” Sarah pushed the door open and John thanked the heavens for old fashioned desks but not for the still persistent detective who was carefully unbuckling his belt.   
“Yeah, Sarah, hey…’sup!” he knew he sounded awkward but he gave himself leeway because of “distractions” namely nimble fingers tugging at his waist and his belt unclasping, falling limply apart without a sound.   
“I have to leave early, do you mind seeing Mrs Smith here. You don’t have any other patient for the next thirty minutes, so…” the hands stopped working and John could feel the head resting its chin on the edge of the chair, the confusion understandable and the slight smirk apparent.

He tried to think of a possible excuse (“sorry, I can’t because there is a Sherlock between my legs”) but the guilt over the sheer number of times Sarah had covered up for him while he had gone sauntering off London with Sherlock was too much of a burden for him to refuse. He tried to politely tell Sherlock to stop with his noble work using his shoe but the detective simply unbuttoned his trousers with the smallest of rustles.

“Yeah, alright,” John tried to smile but he was sure it came off as a pained grimace; it was still enough for Sarah who beamed at him and left Mrs Smith into his very able hands.

“Dr John Watson, Miss Sarah keeps telling me such wonderful things about you,” she walked towards him, slowly settling into the opposite chair and continuing, “it’s this eye of mine,” she removed her glasses and blinked at him for a few seconds before he took them from her hands “I can’t see anything without these glasses you know, can’t even tell if you are a man or a woman.” He laughed kindly and looked over the file she had handed over to him, quietly mourning the loss of activity from down below.

“So, you can’t see at all, Mrs Smith?” he flipped through her file, checking for the usual things almost mechanically when he felt fingers tracing the bulge in his trousers with careful precision, they travelled up as he shivered and looked up to see Mrs Smith looking at a point to his left. The hands reached up and tugged at his trousers, he lifted himself up just a tiny bit for them to be pulled down and pool around his ankles.

“Call it an old lady’s curiosity, Doctor Watson, but I get this distinct impression that Doctor Sarah might actually fancy you,” even without her glasses, she almost gave him a look of x-raying him but before he could respond, there was a sharp bite on the inside of his thigh and he forgot what he was going to say as it was sucked harder, making a point.

“I-ah- yes, we did go out for a while but it didn’t work out, Mrs Smith,” he managed as his chair was pulled closer and hands circled his waist to bring him on the edge of the seat. It pained him to think about this but he thanked the almighty for cataracts as a tongue traced the sensitive skin near the white trim of his thongs and plunged right in, hands clutching at his knees, as his hand found its way under the table to fist his hand into a curly head with a warning that was ignored.

As he closed the file to write a prescription, his erection was mouthed from his pants and even the image made him hotter, if that was possible, as he felt a warm mouth sucking at the small wet stop that he was sure of. He was so on the edge of the chair that his knees were inches away from the ground but he dared not make any move.

As a cold hand found the opening and pulled his cock out, John almost groaned at the freedom but stopped himself to notice that Mrs Smith had said something.  
“Sorry, what?” he muttered apologetically, as apologetic as one can be when someone is decadently licking the underside of someone’s cock with their sinful tongue like the last Christmas candy cane and a Cheshire like grin on their face. He almost dug his chest into the table’s sides as Mrs Smith replied, “I was saying that you two are perfect for each other, you know. She’s a nice girl and you are quite a handsome man yourself-” oh, Sherlock put the head in his mouth, halleluj- fuck no, “-you would have such beautiful kids-” the evil fucking genius started sucking just hard enough to make John want more, lapping up the pre-come “-are you listening, Doctor?”

“Uh, yeah. I-” fingers circling his balls, index tracing the sensitive skin, dragging across it “-know what you mean and Sarah is a wonderful girl-” with a last tug at his balls, the fingers withdrew their exploration and teasing and hands held his waist as his entire length was swallowed and John moaned.

“Ohhhh- sorry, hit my, erm, toe at the- ah- table” John could see Sherlock hollowing his mouth and those beautiful lips stretched around him as he soldiered on “you know, it’s just not meant to work between some people, it’s like that between us” he hit the back of Sherlock’s throat and wanted nothing better than pushing into that warm mouth, so he quickly wrote the prescription and put his other hand on Sherlock’s head as a warning as he handed Mrs Smith her glasses and her prescription, pasting a genuine smile on his face as the sucks grew quiet and long drawn.

“Thank you, Doctor Watson, I hope you don’t mind my prying,” she smiled and as she made to leave. When she reached the door, she turned around and whispered, “Oh, and I’d ask that table to take care of your toe. Have a good day, doctor,” she winked at him and left him with a frozen detective in mid suck.

“Oh god, Sherlock that was-” John tried to complain but then Sherlock started bobbing his head, trying to make his apology sufficient, as he met John’s eye and hollowed his cheeks, looking filthy and beautiful as he hummed and the vibrations made John’s eyes roll and his head fall back, his hand clutching the table for support as he started pushing into it, every thrust followed by a moan from down below and he felt the tension seize him for a second before he was spilling into that mouth without abandon. If anyone had walked in on them, they would have witnessed a debauched John Watson riding the aftershocks of his, quite easily, the most intense orgasm in a long time.

As he got his breath back, he noticed Sherlock still kneeling, his head resting on John’s knees and tucking John quietly inside with a familiar smirk. Pulling the detective up on his lap and kissing his own taste out of him. He then called the receptionist, “Kristina, could you cancel my next patient? I have some urgent job to attend to.” And then he repaid the favour. Twice.

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd. Feel free to point out errors.


End file.
